Halfway There

When we talk,
disconnect dangles on the end of every word.
The conversations aren’t forced, 
but they are definitely fleeting, 
and pierced with potential that will never be fulfilled.

When I think of you, my visions are skewed. 
My memories used to play cinematically,
and I would fixate on that imagery as if my life depended on it. 

Now, they’re bits and pieces of scenes I vaguely recall being in.
Flashbacks of us kissing are interrupted by the arguing,
and it’s not long before the tears take center stage.

You were what I wanted,
but you were rarely what I needed. 
I tried to bury your flaws underneath the moments
where we stood a fighting chance. 

These days I’m growing closer to the version of me
that does just fine without you. 
When you look at my Instagram,
I wonder what goes through your head.

I’ve forgotten what you smell like,
and I’ve become foreign to your touch. 
How beautiful it is to know,
I can’t hold on to what I can’t feel.

My love for you stretches to the end of time,
but I don’t like you, not one bit.
You treat me like I’m unworthy of respect,
but loathe the idea of us becoming total strangers. 
Yet even with our history,
we’re already halfway there. 

written December 30, 2019.

You Don't Care

It doesn’t matter if I speak my peace,
or if I fall off the face of the earth. 
The outcome will remain the same.
Caring was never your strong suit. 

written November 16, 2019.

Pick Your Poison

I know you want to make love to me,
but I’m in the mood to fuck.
I know you want to whisper the sweetest
of sentiments in my ear, but I don’t want to talk.

I’ve been wondering what you would taste like
for a while now.
I’ve been aching to know what it would feel like
once you get inside.

I haven’t danced with the Devil in a very long time.
I’d like to keep it that way,
but boy, do you tempt me.

Sex with me being your desire but not a demand
only turns me on even more.
Knowing that you wanted me without making it a
priority to have me, makes me wet.

When you finally came clean,
I knew that trouble was rounding the corner.
I guess it’s only a matter of days before I toss
the red flags out the window
and receive the consequences with open arms.

The angel fighting to be heard asks me “Is it worth it?”
To which I reply “It never is.”
I am very selective with the poison I pick,
and it just had to be you.

written November 11, 2019.

Do The Right Thing

I wasn’t thinking about you 
until you reached out to me.
Our last conversation took me to a place 
I didn’t think I’d go.  

You were the first man I had an authentic connection with.
You checked all of the boxes. 
You were a walking, talking dream. 

Out of all of the memories that come to mind,
there is one that stings the most. 
It has nothing to do with me;
it was the moment I realized you had proposed 
to her. 

I remember looking at that picture of you on bended knee,
followed by the one of you holding her as she cried onto your chest,
and I wanted to know:

Were you really happy?
Were you really sure?
Did she make you feel the ways that I did?

If you moving on affected me to this degree,
surely you must’ve thought about me along the way. 
I was floored when only a few weeks after,
I discovered that you did; that you do.

You know I’m sorry. 
You know I’m here for you, always.
You’re unhappy, but you don’t want to hurt her. 
There are variables you have to consider
that would never cross my mind, because they don’t need to.

I never told you that you were the first man I could see myself with.
We fit in a way that was more than I could fathom.
I never told you because I wasn’t ready to do anything about it.
I never told you because I was careless, and selfish, and cold. 

I don’t want to turn back the hands of time;
there is no need to. 
I don’t live with regret.
I don’t compete with fate.

I may wonder, or fantasize, or reminisce,
but I acknowledge the barrier between us. 
I set boundaries, but do they really matter?
Because like you said the other day:
Attraction + chemistry + history is a dangerous thing. 

I don’t know her, but I respect her,
and I want what’s best for you, even if it doesn’t feel good.
I understand that means I may never see you again. 
I understand that means there are a lot of talks we will never get to have.
I know you have questions you are withholding from me,
but I suppose it’s better that way. 

Out of sight isn’t out mind.
Out of sight doesn’t make your marriage stronger, either.
But I will stay here, and you will remain there. 
It’s not about desire anymore.
It’s about doing what’s right. 

written October 1, 2019.

I Know

I have a lot to say,
but can only muster a portion.
I understand what’s happened,
it’s just difficult to explain it all.

When you were here,
being off and on was a self-inflicted struggle.
Now that you’re gone,
the real pain has set in.

Deleting every single text, email, picture,
and ridding myself of any other trace of your existence
was ideal at the time.
Now, I would do anything to get those items back.

Through it all,
my perception of you never changed.
I was well aware that your emotional ineptness
was only a fraction of who you are.
I just hate that who you are came at my expense.

What we had was flawed.
It was messy.
It was a wild ride of a romance that only we could make sense of.
It was an intricate language that only we knew how to speak.

I guess what I’m trying to say is…
I really loved you,
and I know that you really loved me.

written September 9, 2019.

From Your Former Babygirl

It’s remarkable how often my thoughts jump through hula hoops.
One day I’m reminiscing and wondering what could’ve been,
and the next day, you’re barely on my mind.

I realized that I miss you,
but not in the way that you might think.
It’s the familiarity of having you in my life that I mourn 
as opposed to your presence,
because you could be sitting right beside me,
and still be somewhere else.  

It is weird yet relieving to know that this is the end.
It took years to arrive to the point where I feel comfortable not being able to text, call, or see you.
When something happens worth mentioning,
it stings knowing that I can’t share it,
but fortunately the feeling is fleeting.

I know in my heart that if you remained in my life, 
it would be because my love for you was tied to instant gratification,
not because you were meant to be a permanent fixture. 

When I said I believe that you loved and cared for me
to the best of your ability, I meant it.
Just because we emote in different ways, doesn’t mean your feelings are invalid.
A large part of loving unconditionally, is being able to let go when you know it’s for the best.
So I want you to know that not only do I want what’s best for me,
I will always wish the best for you. 

The last time I wrote something along these lines,
I referred to myself as your “Babygirl” forever.
Things have changed since then.
That’s not who I am anymore, and I couldn’t stay her even if I tried.
Because one day, another man is going to call me all of the things you called me and then some, and one of them is “wife.” 

Loving you while being hurt by you,
has verified that just because people are seasonal,
doesn’t mean that they can’t serve as your mirror.
I often harped on your flaws,
but dealing with them also allowed me to see more of mine. 

So thank you, again:
For teaching me lessons through all that you did and all that you didn’t,
for leaving me with some pretty sweet memories,
and for being honest with me, no matter how much it hurt.
I hope you cherish our time together just as much as I do, but more importantly,
I hope that down the line, you choose the opposite of empty. 

written June 17, 2019.

All Pleasure, No Peace.

I’m only used to being loved halfway.
I don’t remember what it feels like to be poured in, to the brim,
spilling over because my heart cannot hold all that’s been given.
I’m only used to being touched as an object, not as their one and only.
Men have used sex as a form of entitlement,
which showed me they thought I was worth penetrating,
but not worth protecting.
They brought me pleasure, but couldn’t bring me peace.

written March 24, 2018.

Tired

I am probably more tired now,
than I have ever been.
It doesn’t consume me,
but it’s a constant reminder
that a woman like me
should never feel this way.

I’ve resigned from writing about you a million times over,
yet here I am again.
Instead of fighting the urge to spill the contents of my heart
onto pieces of paper,
I’ve continued to let them pour.

Still, I simply wish that my inclination to do so
fades away –
just like your love for me.

written May 11, 2019.

Babygirl

Let this be the last time that I look at you,
and the last time that my fingertips
trace the places
that yours used to roam.

I am grateful for every inch of our journey.
You were there for me through some of my most daunting moments.
You listened as I detailed the darkest parts of my pain,
and made sure that I would not let
its abyss swallow me whole.

You were the source of many smiles,
and the cause of many bloated bellies
from being wined and dined
all of those late nights in your home.

I’ll miss the laughter, and the singing,
and the dancing, and the cuddling.
I’ll miss the sweet splendor of how you
would sex me right to sleep,
just for me to wake up to the most delicate forehead kisses.

You were warmth, and humor, and savant, and style.
You were contradictory, and confusing, and hurtful, and proud.
You were so many things,
which is why I felt so many things,
and learned to be kinder to myself
as I unraveled your grip around my heart.

You complicated my most magnificent love,
and I’ve finally forgiven you for it.
My resentment has dissolved,
and the desire to see and speak to you
has finally gone away.

I am now okay
with not having you in my life anymore.
And although our time has come to an end,
my love for you has not.
Thank you, for everything.
Forever, your babygirl.

written January 1, 2019.

I Have To

It’s easier this way.
I’ll keep you in the dark for as long as I can,
but it will be your fault when I finally pull the trigger.
I could talk to you about things,
but I would just be reiterating what you already know.

I want to do everything but say goodbye,
but “everything” always comes back to bite me in the end.
We are take it or leave it.
We are all or nothing.
Always were.
Always will be.

written July 6, 2018.

It Rained On My Mom's Birthday

You’re talking to me.
At least your voice in the background makes it seem that way.
You’re probably making valid points about perspective,
attempting to help me grieve while my period eats away at my emotions,
or trying to make me feel better about being broke “because it’s temporary.”
You never fail to mention that the pockets of the wealthiest people
cannot stop their own crises from taking place.

Maybe you should stop.
Maybe you should let me be;
because what you’re telling me,
I already know,
and it will only worsen my mood.

I’m sorry that you’re spending your 60th birthday 
misty-eyed,
having yet another conversation with your daughter
about how to overcome her woes. 
You tell me a couple of scriptures I can’t adequately recall
before going back to your book.

Moments later I’ve made myself more aware,
only because the speech doesn’t seem like it’ll reconvene.
Part of me is relieved that you’re focused on news updates,
and it doesn’t take long before your routine complaints about Trump begin. 

This is it:
Just us.
It usually is.
Me, suctioned into my warped little world, consumed by my hunger for success.
You, hurting beyond any type of explanation or comprehension,
carrying on as if today isn’t especially yours.

I’m sorry. 

written September 15, 2016.

Shut It

It’s like a neglected wound.
Most of the time I forget that it’s there,
but when I remember,
it’s like I got cut all over again.

To feel it is to be reminded that I was left:
as if I never mattered,
as if I don’t exist.
To feel it is to know that love will never be enough,
and that words dissolve right after they’re spoken.

So if you love me like you say you do,
show it by staying.
And if you ever leave,
be sure to shut the door.

written July 7, 2017.

3:00 AM

I used to like the pain,
now I want anything to numb it.
These days have passed by so quickly,
yet they seem to last so long.

I haven’t talked to you in quite some time now.
Finality has a weird kind of ring to it.
I can’t forget your smile,
but his has got me hooked.

No need for sorry - I’ve forgiven you already.
You’re out of sight, but remain at the edges of my mind.
You rest in regret, while I rest in relief.
I’ll be sure to send my love through silence.

written June 7, 2017.

Westworld

I am transformed on a daily basis.
Painted, poked, prodded and primped.
My entire being is a clean slate
that is constantly reinvented for your viewing.

An array of emotions are conveyed on camera,
but are they mine or my public persona’s?
Sometimes I’m unsure myself.

I am an actress, a muse, a maniac of sorts.
Far from perfect, yet the ideology is what drives the vision.

When I step in front of the lens,
am I stepping into freedom or entrapment?
Is it me who’s in control,
or those that move me from “start” to “finish?”

No one on this Earth is as isolated as they may think.
There is always someone or something causing you
to think the way you think,
and to act the way you act.

Are we artists,
or are we puppets?
Maybe it’s a mixture of both.
A touch can turn into a transfer of toxins.
Be mindful of whose hands are molding you.

written May 25, 2017.

Silly Little Tears

You told me not to fall for you.
You told me that I deserve better. 
You told me that you love me 
and that you want what is best for me.
It had been made clear that what was best,
wasn’t you.

Yet, you’re here,
with your tie undone and your eyes glossed over,
wondering if the man who’s waiting for me at the bar is mine. 
You ran in your expensive suit and designer shoes
to tell me that you hope it isn’t true: 
that I could have possibly moved on.

You’re standing in front of me,
like a puppy with its tail in between its legs.
I’ve never seen you look so weary.
I’ve never seen you look so lost.

“I have a boyfriend now,” I say. 
And before I can continue, your lips are trembling and tears are falling.
I’ve never seen you cry;
I never thought you could.

I’m in awe. 
It took years for us to end and even longer for me to recover.
My heart called out your name countless times, yet you refused to listen.
You waited until the man of my dreams took your place,
before you even considered trying to get it back.

So, why are you hurting?
You willingly made room for someone else to give me the world,
the moment you decided we would never have one.

written March 15, 2017.

Halfway

Sometimes, he would hurt me.
Sometimes, I would like it. 
Most times, I didn’t.
And when he would hold me,
it was because he wanted me held captive,
not because he cared.

When I cry, my tears are shed for the younger me,
who had hands in between her legs that didn’t belong there,
who was forced to trade in her childhood for maturation,
and became an adult long before she turned 18.

I don’t want you to wipe my slate clean,
in case you were wondering.
You can’t.
But I was hoping that I could start a new one with you. 
I could give you the love that you’ve been craving,
and you could render the kind that I’ve never received.

Can you do that?
Can you hold all of my broken pieces,
careful not to mix them with your own?
Can you cradle my heart without cutting your hands? 
Can you carry me when my feet are dragging so heavily,
that they begin to slow yours down too?

We understand each other in ways that our formers never could;
we adore the parts of ourselves that they didn’t want. 
Now, we’re presented an opportunity to become the type of people
that we never had.

So, what do you say?
Would you like to meet halfway? 
We deserve a “forever” too. 
I can’t make you whole,
but I’ll vow to make you better.
Just promise that by the time our ending arrives,
you will have done the same for me.

written March 10, 2017.

The Ending

I lay beside your memory at night,
which is why it’s so hard for me to get up in the morning. 
I think of all the times I slept in your bed,
and wonder if you ever think of me when no one is there to hog the covers.

God, I hate this part the most. 
You’re everywhere, in everything. 
I don’t want to press “pause”
because the pain just needs to stop altogether.

I’m disgusted that our ending 
has me questioning if what we had was even real.
Were our feelings truly the same,
or did you love me like those other guys that call themselves men?

You’re not worried about me;
you can’t be.
You’re unscathed, and that’s okay. 

It is through this tragedy,
that I am able to birth the beautifully crafted story 
of how you destroyed me from the inside out,
and stomped my soul into smithereens.

written February 3, 2017.